


hard to find

by xjooheonx (jooheon)



Category: SHINee
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-08
Updated: 2017-12-07
Packaged: 2018-07-13 00:45:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7131236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jooheon/pseuds/xjooheonx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jonghyun keeps telling him that friends with benefits always ends badly, but Kibum is convinced he can make it work with one awkward, well-endowed, charming but entirely undateable disaster of a human being Lee Jinki. // Or, the one in which what starts out as a really good one night stand develops into something that Kibum refuses to call love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. a chance encounter

**Author's Note:**

> time to dust off some old shinee wips and scatter them like ashes on the wind of the internet~~ this is insanely old but a story concept i haven't stopped being attached to. alternate title "your dick is my drug" (from the kesha song 'your love is my drug'; chapter title from the song by song gol mae)  
> largely unedited, may go back and fix things after posting haha

"Men with big cocks are terrible in bed," Jonghyun says decisively one day. 

"That's bullshit," is Taemin's prompt reply. 

"No, it's so true!" Jonghyun insists. "They think just because they're well-endowed, they're like, _gods_ or something, so they make no effort at all to make it good for their partner. And it's obnoxious."

"Shame you never slept with me, then," Taemin says archly. "Because I have a big cock _and_ I'm a fantastic lay."

"Can you please take this scintillating conversation elsewhere," Kibum interrupts sharply, "because _some_ of us have more important things to do than sit around talking about cocks all day."

The three of them are seated around the kitchen table of Jonghyun and Kibum's shared apartment. _Cramped_ , Taemin calls it. Cozy is Kibum's preferred term. It's true that the place isn't exactly spacious, but Kibum like to think that the closeness engenders intimacy, an essential component between roommates. Not that he and Jonghyun really need to get any closer than they already are; they've been joined at the hip for the better part of ten years, since Kibum was thirteen and Jonghyun fourteen. Then, a few years later, they happened upon fifteen-year-old Taemin and took him in under their wings. That's how Kibum likes to think of it, at least, but more likely, Taemin just wormed his way into their lives, into their hearts, with his wide-eyed naivete and sunny smiles.

However he ended up here, nowadays Taemin spends more time in their apartment than in his own. His rooming situation with fellow college sophomore Jongin is… chaotic, for a number of reasons, not least of which is Jongin's ever-present and apparently sexually insatiable boyfriend, Kyungsoo. Taemin likes Kyungsoo, just like he likes the couple's millions upon millions of other friends, but having them constantly streaming in and out of the apartment can be overwhelming at times.

Although, spending time with Kibum and Jonghyun can't really be all that much more peaceful in comparison. Maybe there's just an element of comfort in the familiarity of the endless bickering and playing and foolishness that inevitably occur when the three of them are together. Kibum doesn't mind, not really, because he loves Taemin, but sometimes – like now – he thinks it would be nice if he could have just a _little_ time to himself.

It's just that, Taemin is only a sophomore and Jonghyun just graduated, and neither of them are going through what he's going through with his senior comps and graduation looming just months ahead. And then there's the fact that Jonghyun and Taemin are both currently obsessed with talking about sex, and this, in combination with Kibum's frustrating lack of game lately, is making him irritable. He doesn't want to get caught up in their stupid flirtation, rife with taunts and challenges and exaggerated tales of conquest and so much sexual tension Kibum can practically taste it in the air. Not terribly helpful when he's trying to cobble together a cohesive segment on the great vowel shift. 

Kibum's major is linguistics, another thing distancing him from his two best friends. Taemin's a math major (and he's flying effortlessly through his classes, the gifted little shit) and Jonghyun, despite having double majored in business and econ, is currently scraping by on late-night gigs at a mildly seedy bar downtown and a handful of songs composed for a big label entertainment company that once rejected him during an open audition.

Once upon a time, they'd all harbored ambitions to become idol singers. But that had been a brief phase cooked up in the feverish desperation of finals week, and now it's hard to imagine what their lives would have become if they had actually gone out and auditioned – or, in Jonghyun's case, passed the scrupulously judged audition. Maybe it's for the best we never did it, Taemin has said. Maybe these are the lives we're meant to lead.

Yes, Kibum thinks sourly, I was meant to be sitting here at a kitchen table between two idiotic horndogs practically salivating over each other, with my nose buried in an eight-hundred page book about Old English. Sounds about right. 

"There's nothing more important than talking about cocks," Taemin says brightly, ignoring the glare Kibum shoots him in response.

"I think you just need to get laid, Kibum," Jonghyun says speculatively. "That'd cheer you up."

" _I_ think," Kibum says viciously, "what I need is to finish this fucking paper without you two yelling about your bar hopping adventures in both my ears."

"No, Jonghyun's right," Taemin says. "You just need to come with us on our bar hopping adventures! Tomorrow night. Friday night. You can't say no, hyung. It'll be an excuse to wear those ridiculous pants you bought last month."

"Well." Kibum does like an opportunity to wear tight, sparkly pants. "If I say yes, will you both get the fuck out now and leave me to my work?"

"Absolutely," Jonghyun says, and drags Taemin out the front door.

 

Jinki's really not into drinking - except, no, that's such a lie, he totally is. He loves drinking. But not like this, amidst a crowd of strangers, where he's expected to sort of put himself out there and mingle constantly, where every interaction is underlaid with an implicit understanding that at least one party involved is trying to get some. Jinki really likes drinking with his friends, but drinking here, at a bar, by himself (Minho having long abandoned him, the heartless bastard) with only shot after shot of whiskey to keep him company – well, this could get dangerous.

He's by himself for maybe twenty minutes, his eyes wandering across the crowd as his head bobs (laughably offbeat) to the music, and then he's being jostled rudely off his stool.

Or maybe he's jostled lightly and he's startled into falling off his stool. He is drunk enough that that's a possibility.

Whatever the case, he has been jostled, and now he is sitting on the floor. Standing above him and looking down at him with a hint of concern and a generous helping of disdain is a man with killer cheekbones and dark eyeliner and _extremely_ tight pants. Sober Jinki would be mortified at this development, but drunk Jinki is pleasantly surprised. 

"Sorry you knocked me off my stool," he slurs. "It was an accident."

"I didn't – " the man says, confused. "Wait, what?"

"Can I buy you a drink?" Jinki continues. God, he's good at this. Why doesn't he get drunk more often?

"I don't think – " the man starts, frowning. But his friends nudge him furiously.

"Oh my god, Kibum, do it."

"He's cute!"

"Yeah, take advantage of him!"

Jinki clambers to his feet and grins in what he thinks is a highly seductive manner. Yes, wow, up close, this man is really pretty. He's got soft pink lips, gorgeous eyes. Really fucking nice collarbones. Jinki would be extremely amenable to being taken advantage of by such a divine creature. 

"You're beautiful," he murmurs sincerely, and though the bar is packed and noisy, the man hears him and a hot flush creeps up his pretty white neck.

"Okay," the man says. "One drink."

 

Kibum wakes up naked with a bitch of a hangover and an unfamiliar someone breathing hotly on the back of his neck.

So that's that. He is never going bar hopping with Taemin and Jonghyun ever again.

He's already constructing the angry speech he's going to deliver when he gets back to the apartment. So far it's pretty basic, about ten _fuck you_ 's and three gruesomely detailed threats involving metal objects and Jonghyun's man parts, but he plans on refining it into a truly hair-raising piece on the way home.

Speaking of which – where is he, exactly?

Gingerly, careful not to make the mattress bounce too much as he moves, he inches away from the person sleeping soundly behind him and turns to get a good look. It's a man, snoring unbecomingly while still managing to be quite cute, his thick, ruddy lips parted slightly in an adorable O, his subtly muscular build apparent in the bare arm slung out before him, bent so that his hand is resting very near to the pillow Kibum was occupying just moments ago. 

For one uncomfortable moment, Kibum's spine prickles with fear because _who is this man_? He doesn't place him right away, but after studying those peaceful, sun-soaked features, his mind zooms back to the bar last night. He remembers accidentally nudging one of the figures seated along the bar, and being startled when the man apparently lost all control of his limbs and went flying off his bar stool. He remembers Jonghyun saying too loudly in his ear, "He's cute!"

And then – oh, of course, it's all coming back – the cutie had called him beautiful, and bought him a drink, and introduced himself.

"Jinki," he'd said.

Jinki. Lee Jinki.

His stomach curls hotly, because more and more memories are coming into focus, like puzzle pieces snapping crisply into place. Jinki had continued plying him with drinks, and Kibum had gotten _so_ smashed. Smashed enough to agree to come home with Jinki – a complete stranger! – smashed enough to spend what felt like hours just sloppily making out with him on a worn and creaky couch whose springs protested mightily with every shift of their intertwined bodies. 

And then – this part is clearer – they had slept together. 

Well, not that Kibum was really doubting that. He is _buck naked_ , after all. And this thought spurs him to get up and get dressed, though his head is spinning violently and he nearly falls down while pulling on his underwear. He has to hunt around a bit for his sparkly pants, which, when he finds them, are reflecting the sunlight in all sorts of nasty ways that are completely unfair to a man with a hangover, and his shirt, which, much to his dismay, is actually _ripped_ a little at the collar. When had that happened? He doesn't remember that happening. 

Fully dressed, he walks to the full length mirror by Jinki's closet and eyes himself critically up and down. His hair is disheveled beyond repair, but he's not planning on sticking around long enough for Jinki to get a good look at him, so whatever. He is going to have to go out in public to get home, though, so he tries to tamp his hair down a little, and as he leans in to get a good angle on that one stubborn cowlick, he suddenly catches sight of them. 

The hickeys.

"My _god_ ," he mutters, because seriously, there are a _lot_ of them. Dark red marks tinged with purple, ranging in size from relatively innocent to improbably massive, they're peppered all across his neck and collarbones and – he pushes his shirt down – a perilous few centimeters from his left nipple? You'd think he'd remember that one. 

He turns to survey Jinki indignantly. What kind of a person leaves _eleven hickeys_ on a random one-night stand? 

Jinki is still snoring benignly, and it's hard for Kibum to be mad at him when he hardly knows him, especially given that last night they'd had sex and it had been… well. Now that he’s actually thinking back, it had been amazing. He'd been drunk, but not drunk enough to miss how stunningly talented Jinki was between the sheets. Definitely sober enough to appreciate the skill with which Jinki kissed, even with the taste of cheap vodka warm on his tongue, and Jinki had kissed him a lot. He'd pressed close for a kiss when they were both naked, when his fingers were probing between Kibum's legs, slick with lube, seeking entrance. He'd stolen a kiss with his cock dragging heavy along Kibum's thigh, and then again when he'd pushed in abruptly. He'd kissed Kibum hard, stifled the hiss of pain that came inevitably because – and this Kibum remembers more clearly than anything – Jinki's cock is fucking _huge_.

Kibum's never had a problem with bottoming, partially because he has a very high threshold for pain and partially because he generally finds it easy to derive pleasure from the position. But he's never been more okay with bottoming, never been so eager for it, than last night. Jinki had filled him, there's no other way to put it. Kibum starts blushing just thinking about it, because it's just hitting him now, but they actually had _so much sex_ last night. He remembers coming at least three times. How could he not, with Jinki ramming relentlessly into him like that, sending wave after wave of pleasure coursing through his veins…

Lost in a somewhat arousing train of thought, he doesn't notice when Jinki wakes up.

"Oh," Jinki takes in Kibum, fully dressed but with tousled bedhead, "are you leaving?"

"Um," Kibum says, panicking. "Um, oh god you're awake. I. I _was_ going to leave, yeah."

"I'll make you breakfast," Jinki says, throwing back the covers. And Kibum has to stop himself from giving a gasp of awe because _there it is_. Last night it had been dark and he had been drunk so his memories may have been deceiving, but here in the bright morning sun there can be no mistake. Even flaccid, Jinki's cock is massive.

"Uh," Kibum stutters. "Y - you don't have to do that." He wills himself to avert his eyes as Jinki gets up and quickly pulls on a pair of pajama bottoms. _God_ , but it's a nice cock. "I have to be somewhere."

"At nine o'clock on a Saturday morning? Really?" Jinki says, a little teasingly.

"I do," Kibum says, casting about quickly for an excuse, "I'm, my friend, I have yoga. Hot yoga. With my friend. I'm really going to be late. Sorry."

"Well," Jinki starts.

"I'm sorry," Kibum hurries on quickly, backing away toward the door. "It's just, I'm really bad at one night stands. I don't – I'm sorry."

"Don't be," Jinki says. He pushes his hair back, tilts his head sleepily. "What are you sorry for?"

"For – because you – I don't really know," Kibum says. "Look, last night was" – _incredible, unreal, unforgettable_ – "nice, but I really do have to go."

Jinki looks kind of almost crestfallen at that, and Kibum feels bad for half an instant, but then his cell phone rings and it's Jonghyun, so he whirls away from this man _whom he really doesn't know, no matter how cute he is_ , he reminds himself, and strides out of the apartment before answering his phone.

"Hello?"

"Where are you?" Jonghyun demands. 

"Calm down, I'm on my way home," Kibum says. "You're the one who told me to get out and get some action last night."

"But I called you like ten times and you didn't pick up," Jonghyun says. "You just disappeared."

"I was _having sex_."

"Oh." Pause. "Well, good. Just making sure, I guess."

"Yeah, thanks," Kibum says gruffly. For all that Jonghyun can be obnoxious and overbearing, it's nice to know that he cares enough to worry. Besides, Kibum is guilty of the same thing.

"Anyway, there's something else I wanted to talk about," Jonghyun continues. "It should probably wait until you get here, though."

"Good, because I need to figure out where the hell I am," Kibum says. 

"Rough."

"Tell me about it. See you in a bit."

 

"Rough," is all Minho says when he's heard the full story.

"Tell me about it!" cries Jinki. He buries his head in his arms on the cool, smooth counter of the coffee shop, and Minho, from behind the register, makes a sympathetic noise.

The coffee shop is pretty good for hangovers, being that it's a) dimly lit and b) serves what Jinki devoutly believes to be the most potent coffee in the city. Plus there's Minho, part-time barista and best friend extraordinaire, who is a neverending well of support and comfort, on top of giving Jinki free coffee. Come to think of it, though –

"This is all your fault," Jinki moans. He doesn't lift his head, but raises one hand to point an accusatory finger at his friend. 

Minho doesn't so much as flinch. "I can't be held responsible for your bad life choices," he says.

"You abandoned me," Jinki protests. "Left me to get stupid drunk all by myself, and _this_ happens."

"I had better things to do," Minho says loftily. 

"Oh, like what?"

"Like a choice piece of ass," Minho says smugly, "so good I was tempted to skip work this morning and go another few rounds. He seemed willing enough."

"Yeah?" Jinki says, peering at Minho from over his shirtsleeve. "So he didn't run screaming as soon as the sun came up?"

"No," Minho sighs, "because neither of us got as wasted as you and that Kibum were last night."

"Well, congrats on that," Jinki says moodily.

"You might as well just forget about him," Minho says. "You're never going to see him again."

That's the thing, though. Jinki _knows_ he should forget about Kibum, but he doesn't want to. He doesn't know if he can, honestly. He knows it was nothing more than drunk sex, a one-time romp. He knows it shouldn't mean anything.

But for some reason, he just thinks that it _should_ have been meaningful. It should have been special. Maybe, under different circumstances, it would have been. 

Jinki heaves a sigh.

"I feel like shit," he announces to the world at large. A few other customers in the coffee shop shoot him annoyed looks. 

"I know, hyung, I'm sorry," Minho says soothingly. "I'll make you another latte. Triple-shot."

 

When Kibum walks back into the apartment he fully intends to bring Jonghyun and Taemin to bodily harm, but Jonghyun's curled up in bed and Taemin isn't there. Sometimes Kibum forgets that Taemin doesn't actually live with them. Too bad for Jjong, he thinks.

"WAKE UP YOU GOOD FOR NOTHING FUCKFACE," he bellows, barging into Jonghyun's bedroom. He resists the urge to kick the other man's bed. "I'M GOING TO KILL YOU."

"Kibummie," Jonghyun groans. He rolls over to face the wall, his naked shoulder blades poking out from his covers. "I'm hungover and sad so please, let's not do this right now."

"I'm hungover too," Kibum shoots back, "but you know what? I'm dealing with it. In fact, I've _been_ dealing with it for the past _hour and a half_ that I've been taking public transportation back home since _someone_ decided last night that it would be a good idea for me to get trashed and go home with a total stranger, and Jjong, fuck you for letting me do that! How could you? Is that what best friends do? Huh?"

"Ki _bum_ ," Jonghyun whines.

"I have work to do, Jonghyun," Kibum hisses. "I have real work and real deadlines and I'm stressed out of my mind and you thought getting me drunk would fix all of that? Well that was really fucking stupid and terrible of you, okay, because you didn't fix shit. You just made everything worse, you _asshole_. You're so – "

"Kibum shut _up_ ," Jonghyun says hoarsely. "I'm sorry, okay, I'm sorry. I am. But did I force you to go home and sleep with him?"

"Yes," Kibum says, rolling his eyes. "You told me to, and I quote, _take advantage of him_."

"That was Taemin."

Kibum narrows his eyes.

"But I take your point," Jonghyun says hastily. "Well. Was he at least good?"

"Yes," Kibum sighs, and just like that, all the fight whooshes tiredly out of him. He slumps into Jonghyun's desk chair. "He was very good."

"Well, that's good!" Jonghyun says brightly. He sits up, winces a little. "Isn't it?"

"If nothing else, it proved a point," Kibum says.

"What point?"

"Taemin's point," Kibum says, grinning in spite of himself. "Men with big cocks _are_ good in bed."

Jonghyun's face darkens, and Kibum frowns. He'd expected to at least get a laugh with that.

"What's wrong?" he asks.

"Nothing," Jonghyun says quickly. "Nothing at all. So you're not mad at me anymore?"

"Of course I am," Kibum snorts. "I'm furious."

"Don't be mad," Jonghyun coos. "I love you, Kibummie!"

"Yeah, I know," Kibum says airily. "As you should." He looks around. "But anyway, where _is_ Taemin? Shouldn't he be running around our apartment like the little asshole he is? That's what he's been doing every day for the past month, at least."

"I don't know where he is," Jonghyun says, suddenly very interested in studying the seams at the edge of his comforter. "Probably still with that tall guy from last night."

"What tall guy?" Kibum asks, bemused. "I don't remember a tall guy."

"Of course not," Jonghyun says. "You were with Mister Big Cock or whatever."

"Jinki," Kibum corrects. 

"Yeah, okay, well while you were flirting up a storm with _Jinki_ , Taemin was getting handsy with some tall guy." Jonghyun picks at his comforter. "Pretty sure they left together."

"Was he good looking?" Kibum asks.

"Yes, very." Why does Jonghyun look so upset about this? He's become withdrawn and sulky, which he normally doesn't do unless he's just been rejected or –

"Oh my god," Kibum says suddenly. "You're _jealous_."

Jonghyun shoots him a scathing look but doesn't deny it.

"You _like_ him," Kibum says incredulously. "You like that spoiled little babyfaced twat, oh my god."

"Last night," Jonghyun says, "I had an epiphany."

"Oh shut _up_ I don't want to hear about your incredible newfound love," Kibum says. "Save it for your dumb sappy ballads."

Jonghyun perks up. "You’re so right, this is good material – "

"Jesus.” Kibum rolls his eyes, hard. “This is what I put up with. My two best friends are hot for each other, like _why_. I seriously don’t get it.”

"If he were hot for me he wouldn’t have gone home with that Minho punk last night,” Jonghyun says sourly. Then pauses. “Kibum, do you really think he likes me – ?”

"Okay, no," Kibum says shaking his head, "No comment. I'm not getting involved in your angsty teenage romance saga. You two can work your shit out on your own. I'll be in my room crying about grad school apps."

 

The first time, Jinki tells himself, was chance. It had been a crowded bar and a lucky whim that had landed Kim Kibum in his bed, and for all that it had been amazing and one of the best nights in his life, it had been nothing more than a one-night stand. Nothing to get worked up about.

But the second time, Jinki swears, it's fate.

It's fate that the blind date Minho sets him up on turns out to be Kibum, fate that they should end up back in the very same bar as that first night. Fate that Kibum's transparent disinterest should be replaced by loud flirtatiousness after two shots.

Jinki makes a point of not drinking too much this time, because he doesn't want it to be like last time and since, yeah, they _have_ already slept together, he's assuming Kibum will come home with him again. He just wants to make it _better_ than last time.

Kibum is talkative when drunk, Jinki discovers. More so than during their rather awkward dinner, during which Jinki had filled all the long silences with terrible seafood puns that had been met with even longer silences. Once or twice he'd see Kibum's lip twitch, which encouraged him to persist, but not once had Kibum offered up any jokes of his own, which Jinki thought was a little unfair. 

Now, though. Now Kibum is running his mouth a mile a minute, probably fueled by tequila, and Jinki finds himself listening intently, because it's rather interesting.

"I just can't _do_ , like, you know. Relationships," Kibum is saying. "I mean, I don't want to start something I'm not going to finish. If I know I'm not going to marry him, why should I keep on seeing him? You know?"

Jinki nods, biting his lip to refrain from offering up his own opinion. 

"But like, at the same time," Kibum continues, "I fucking _really_ like sex. It's fun. It's nice. And I'm horny basically all the time, I just don't have anyone to _fuck_ all the time, do you know what I mean? It's just impossible to have a lot of sex without having a boyfriend or being, like a prostitute, and I don't want to have a boyfriend. And I don't want to be a prostitute."

"That wouldn't be good," Jinki agrees helpfully, "being a prostitute, I mean. But having a boyfriend surely wouldn't be _that_ bad."

"It would be," Kibum insists. "I know it would be. I can't get mixed up in a relationship. I don't want to."

Which begs the question: "Then why'd you agree to this blind date?"

Kibum sighs heavily. "Well, it wasn't really blind. At least, not on my end."

"I – you mean – huh?" Jinki says, confused.

"What I mean is," Kibum says, "I knew it was you that Taemin and his friend were trying to set me up with. Like, otherwise I would have said no."

"Oh." Jinki processes this, careful to keep his expression neutral in case it doesn't mean what he thinks it means. "Um. Why?"

"This is going to sound weird," Kibum says, "but, and like I know it was a few months ago, it's just that, like. I can't stop thinking about that night. When we had sex."

Jinki realizes he's been holding his breath; he lets it all out now in one long exhale. 

"I didn't really say this at the time, but Jinki." Kibum suddenly reaches out and grabs his forearm. "You were _incredible_. I really just. Thanks. For that night. It was really, _really_ good."

Kibum's fingers are warm and rubbing circles into Jinki's skin and Jinki may or may not be on the verge of hyperventilating.

"I – thought it was good, too," he says lamely. "Should – should I take this to mean that you want, um, a repeat of that night?"

Kibum leans in. His breath tickles Jinki's cheek and his lips – a perfect cupid's bow – are smiling. "Yes, please."

 

It's still a mistake, probably, but this time Kibum isn't going to run away. His head is throbbing dully, but he knows exactly where he is and how he got there, and he's pretty sure that the sizzling sound he's hearing is Jinki making bacon in the kitchen. 

This time, he's going to let Jinki feed him.

Because this time, he has a plan.

Morning-after Jinki is really ridiculously adorable, with his squinty, grinning face and his awful hair and his hipster-nerd glasses. He makes really good coffee, Kibum discovers, and even though he burns half the bacon, the other half turns out pretty well, and they sit together and eat it alongside golden brown toast.

"So, how are you feeling?" Jinki asks, his voice edging on anxious. "I know you drank… kind of a lot last night…"

"I'm fine," Kibum says dismissively, even though it's not one hundred percent true. No point in admitting to how hungover he really is. Besides, it's not nearly as bad as last time.

"Okay," Jinki says. They sit and eat in silence for a while, and Kibum suddenly thinks back to their dinner the night before. The awkwardness had been his own fault, he knows, but he couldn't help it. He wasn't about to get all _emotionally invested_ in this Lee Jinki, this cute but weird disaster of a human being. Objectively speaking, his only redeeming quality is his penis, and that really isn't a good enough reason to try to start a meaningful relationship with someone.

Well. It's true that his dumb jokes were a _little_ charming, but still. Kibum's not the type of person to settle for such stunning _lameness_ , no matter how great Jinki's dick is. He doesn't have the energy to deal with Jinki's apparent social insecurities or his even more apparent lack of fashion sense. He just wants the D.

_I just want the D._

"You what?" 

Oh. He'd said that out loud.

"Sorry," Kibum says, flushing. "Just talking to myself."

"Okay," Jinki says, but he looks as though he knows _exactly_ what Kibum was saying.

"I – well," Kibum says hesitantly. "It does pertain to you."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." He has a plan, he reminds himself. "Listen, I don't remember exactly how much I said last night, but I think I told you about how I don't want to enter into a committed relationship or anything." 

"You mentioned something like that, yeah," Jinki says, and his face suddenly becomes closed off and a little cold.

"I'm just trying to be honest with you," Kibum says, deflating slightly. "I am not at a place in my life where I feel like I can be a good, you know. Boyfriend."

"But?" Jinki prompts, still looking warily distant.

"But I feel like I can be a good fuck." Kibum watches with satisfaction as Jinki's adam's apple bobs nervously. "After last night, and even that first night, I mean, well. You can't deny that we had some pretty fantastic sex."

"I wouldn't deny that, no," Jinki says slowly.

"I think we should make it a thing," Kibum says.

"Sex, you mean," Jinki says. He's staring, and there's disapproval – disappointment? – in his eyes. 

"Why do you say that like you don't want it?" Kibum says, a little frantic. 

"It just sounds like you're asking me to be your full-time booty call," Jinki says, "and I am just trying to decide if I'm okay with that."

"I'd be _your_ booty call, too," Kibum points out.

Jinki looks tempted.

"And before you say no," Kibum continues, "let me also say that, since I'm the one proposing this, I could also find other ways to compensate you."

"Oh my god," Jinki says, wrinkling his nose, "I'm not a _hooker_."

"I didn't mean – no, I know you're not," Kibum says, smothering a smile. "I meant more like, it wouldn't have to be that we just meet and have sex and go home. We could hang out. I could take you to my friend's gigs, if you're into music and stuff." 

Jinki considers this for a moment. "So you'd be like a part-time pseudo boyfriend in exchange for sex."

"Or, uh." Kibum frowns. “Just a friend, with, um, benefits, is more what I was thinking, but – ”

"Sure, let's do it," Jinki says, popping a crispy strip of bacon into his mouth. 

Kibum stares. There's a shiny spot of grease on Jinki's chin. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," Jinki says. "It's obviously not ideal. But I think I can settle for baby steps."

 

"Okay," Minho says, a crease knit deep in his handsome brow, "I'm not trying to be a downer here, since I know you really like this guy, but hyung. He is using you."

"I'm using him, too," Jinki points out. "We're in a consensual, mutually beneficial relationship."

"You are fuckbuddies," Minho says. The cafe is mostly empty; he says it loudly. "There's a distinction."

"Okay, well at least I'm getting laid on a regular basis," Jinki says defensively. "Can you say the same?"

Minho grumbles something unintelligible. Jinki knows he's still smarting from the graceless way Taemin had dumped him. Something about needing more than a purely physical connection; something about needing an intellectually and emotionally stimulating partner. (Even Jinki had thought that that was going a bit far.)

"Sorry," he says instinctively. "Sorry. I didn't – "

"It's okay," Minho says, "I'm over it."

"My point was just that, I'm happy with how things are going," Jinki says carefully. "I'm really happy. And Kibum is, too. So I appreciate your concern, but it's unnecessary."

"Whatever," Minho says darkly. "Just don't come crying to me when you realize that you need him more than he needs you."

 

"You know," Jonghyun says, legs slung over the back of the living room couch as he leans back to give Kibum a dubious look, "based on my extensive knowledge of romantic comedies, that whole 'friends with benefits' thing? It never works out."

"I really hate to break your fragile, teenage girl heart," Kibum says, scrolling absently through pages of designer tees on his laptop, "but rom-coms _lie_ , hyung."

" _Listen_ to me," Jonghyun whines, sitting up. "You two are sleeping together exclusively, one of you's gonna catch feelings and shit's gonna go down! It always happens!"

"Who said we were being exclusive?" Kibum says, raising one eyebrow.

Jonghyun rolls his eyes. "You go out two nights a week to meet with Jinki and you spend the rest of your time here or at the library. I'm pretty sure you're not having sex with anyone else."

"Yeah, whatever," Kibum sighs. He closes his laptop. "Speaking of which, I'm going out now."

"To meet Jinki?" Jonghyun perks up, and follows Kibum into his bedroom. "On a Saturday morning? Intrigue abounds."

"Is it that weird?" Kibum says, annoyed. He tucks his phone and wallet into his favorite leather manpurse. "We're friends, after all."

"Uh, no," Jonghyun smirks. "You're fuckbuddies. There's a distinction."

Kibum rubs a stick of minty chapstick over his lips and pouts at his reflection in the full length mirror for a few seconds. It's not worth arguing with Jonghyun at this point. No matter how hard he tries, Kibum just can't get anyone else to understand the nature of his relationship with Jinki. 

In fact, he's not sure _he_ even gets the nature of his relationship with Jinki, not entirely. But there are a few things he knows for sure. 

One: they have really great sex. This is the clincher in Kibum's book, the single most important thing holding them together. If not for Jinki's amazing dick (and his strong hands and his muscular thighs and his wildly kissable lips), Kibum would have dropped him long, long ago. There's no doubt in his mind about that.

Two: Jinki is really easy to be around.

Three: Jinki is really sweet, and really smart.

Four: Jinki's got a beautiful singing voice, mellow and gentle and soothing, and he'll walk around his apartment just crooning stupidly sentimental ballads until Kibum rolls his eyes and kisses him quiet. 

Anyway – Kibum could go on, but the first one is the only one that really matters – _honestly_ – so he won't. After all, it's not like they're actually dating. They get along well enough, sure, but it's long been understood that their relationship exists purely for the sake of sex. It’s exactly what Kibum wanted, and he doesn’t hear Jinki complaining either. If he’d known this was what it was like to be friends with benefits, he would’ve been doing it a long time ago, instead of wasting his time on a seemingly endless string of no-good boyfriends who left him with nothing but headaches and heartbreak. 

“Jinki and I are nothing like your rom-coms, hyung,” Kibum calls over his shoulder as he makes his way to the entry hall of their apartment. “I know what I’m doing. Don’t wait up for me for dinner.”

And he walks out the door before Jonghyun can get a word in edgewise.


	2. but you say he's just a friend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Literally over a year later and, an update! This has become a 3-chapter affair. I also may go in and edit this chapter later but I just needed to publish it and get it the F out of my google drive drafts folder because it'd been sitting there for far too long. I now roughly know where this fic is going to end though, so it shouldn't be too long before it's all done haha. 
> 
> Chapter title from 'You Got What I Need' by Biz Markie because.... I love that song lol......

It’s not Jonghyun’s usual gig, but Kibum figures it’ll do. In fact, this might actually be better than going to that musty, smoke-filled dive Jonghyun usually plays. Generally, listening to Jonghyun’s band means enduring a lot of too-loud self-composed rock music with weird and/or melodramatic titles like “Lovethrottle,” “Cursed Love,” or Kibum’s personal favorite, “Fuck You and Your Black Heart and Your White Lies.” And it isn’t that Kibum doesn’t genuinely enjoy Jonghyun’s performances – he does, he would’ve stopped going long ago if he didn’t – but it isn’t the type of music he’d seek out if it weren’t his best friend playing it. 

“I prefer songs that are a little less shouty,” Kibum confides primly. “Please don’t tell him I said that.”

“I don’t see when I’ll have the opportunity to,” Jinki says, smiling, “but, okay. I’ll keep your secret.”

It was hard to know what the turnout would be like for this event, so to be on the safe side, Kibum had told Jinki to come early, but even a good half hour before Jonghyun’s scheduled to start, the cafe is teeming with customers. Whether the crowd is here for Jonghyun’s music or simply because it’s an up-and-coming back-alley hipster coffee shop with fresh pastries on a cold day, Kibum doesn’t know. But the two of them just barely manage to snag a table as a couple of teenage girls are leaving, a two-seater next to the drink pickup counter and far from the stage. Kibum saves their seats while Jinki goes and orders for them – “Iced Americano with two sugars, right?” “Right.” – and watches as Jonghyun drags a wooden chair over to the stage and opens his guitar case, starts tuning. Normally he’d make some kind of effort to say hi, either by catching Jonghyun’s eye and waving or just going over and bothering him until his set started, but it’s not necessary today. Jonghyun knows that he’s there, and that he brought Jinki. 

“So it’s like a date,” Jonghyun had said when Kibum first told him. 

“No,” Kibum had said, doing his best not to sound exasperated. “It’s just that I had mentioned you and your music or whatever, and he said he was interested in hearing you play, and this cafe thing came up, and we’re both going to be free, so I invited him, and… just, look, it’s _not_ a date. We’re just going to be there to support you and your music, the same as if I was going with Taemin or something, you know?”

“It’s not the same at all,” Jonghyun said, smirking. “You’re not _fucking_ Taemin.”

“Fucking doesn’t equal dating,” Kibum shot back.

Jonghyun shrugged. “Just seems like a date to me, that’s all.”

They’d gone back and forth in circles for the entire week leading up to the cafe gig, a broken record skipping through the same tedious loop over and over. In the end, it took Kibum threatening to not go to the performance to get Jonghyun to drop it. But, still. He doesn’t want to risk talking to Jonghyun and having the same stupid conversation unfold yet again, but this time with Jinki present. So far, Jinki’s been really great about not trying to define their relationship in too much detail, and Kibum would truly like to keep it that way. 

“Full house today,” Jinki comments when he finally returns with their drinks. “Are these all Jonghyun’s fans, do you think?”

“Beats me,” Kibum says with a shrug. He takes a tentative sip of the Americano, grimaces. “They definitely didn’t come for the coffee, though.”

Jinki laughs. “Mine’s not bad.”

Kibum tastes Jinki’s latte and concedes that it’s passable. “But seriously, I don’t know. I know his band has a fanbase, sort of. But that’s a completely different genre, so I guess… these people could be here because of the acoustic cover videos he’s been putting online? That could be it, actually.”

“Mm,” Jinki nods sagely. “The power of social media. That’s really cool, though. Send me the link sometime, I’d love to watch them.”

“I will,” Kibum says. He traces the rim of his bougie, mason jar Americano with one fingertip. “You know, you could do that, too. Song covers and stuff.”

“Mm,” Jinki says with a little smile. Kibum kind of hates that he’s at this point, but he _knows_ that smile, knows it means that Jinki doesn’t agree with him but just doesn’t want to fight, doesn’t want to fish for compliments or take an honest look at his own worth.

“Seriously, you could,” Kibum says insistently. “Should, even. I mean, you have an incredible voice.”

“You don’t have to exaggerate.” Jinki’s looking down now, tapping his fingers on the tabletop. “And I know I don’t exactly have, y’know, a real camera-friendly face, so –”

Kibum snorts. Actually snorts, phlegmy and loud. Jinki looks affronted.

“Don’t laugh at me!”

“I am not laughing at you,” Kibum says, raising his hands, “just laughing at the absurd idea that you don’t have a camera-friendly face, because what that sounds like is that you don’t think you’re cute, and I’m sorry but that’s bullshit. I know cuteness is subjective or whatever but like, honestly? Jinki, you’re cute. Objectively. Like, you’re handsome. You can’t tell me you’ve gone through twenty-four years of life without knowing that you’re handsome.”

Jinki’s eyes widen, and then his cheeks start glowing dark pink, and he looks back down at the table. His hands come up and brush at his fringe, stay over his face for a second as he says, “I don’t really think I’m handsome, though…”

“You are,” Kibum says. “Honest to God, like as a friend, I can safely confirm that you are good looking.”

Jinki peeks gingerly out from between his fingers. “Oh, right. As a friend, yeah.”

“Right, um.” Kibum blinks. “I just, um. No, like, I just don’t think you should keep on operating under the assumption that you’re not cute, Jinki, like. You should just know that you’re cute.”

“Well,” Jink says. He straightens up a little, still flushed. He licks his lips, once, quickly. “Thanks, Kibum. I… guess you already know that I think you’re really cute, too.”

“Yeah, I know,” Kibum says airily. Jinki’s eyes are on him, soft and warm, and he feels his face heat up. “But the point is this: you can’t sell yourself short, okay? Honestly. I don’t say this shit just to hear myself talk, I mean it.”

“I know you do,” Jinki says, and he’s smiling again. A real smile, all teeth and gums and rounded cheeks, and it’s _so_ , so cute. Objectively. From a friend standpoint. “You’re a very honest person. It means a lot to me.”

Mercifully, Jonghyun starts strumming his guitar just then, and as the cafe quiets down and turns its collective head to watch, Kibum is spared from hearing himself ramble helplessly on about Jinki’s good looks like a dumb, infatuated teenager. _As a friend_ , he thinks disgustedly. It sounded so weak. He might as well have said _No homo!_ No amount of disclaimers will take back the long string of compliments he spewed at Jinki; all that’s left is to try and put it out of his mind. Jinki will probably forget it soon enough, too. They have lots of little conversations about inconsequential shit, this is no different. 

And besides, Jinki should’ve long since figured out that Kibum is attracted to him – they’re sleeping together, that should’ve been obvious from the get-go – so it’s not like Kibum’s dropped any mindblowing new information here.

 _It just seems like a date_ , echoes Jonghyun’s voice in Kibum’s traitorous mind. 

“I love this song,” Jinki whispers across the table, nudging Kibum excitedly. “Wow, he’s really good!”

“Yeah,” Kibum says. It’s one of the songs that Jonghyun had covered and uploaded on his acoustic channel, and if memory serves, this video is one of his most popular. 

“ _Feels like you’re mine, seems like you’re mine, but you’re not_ ,” Jonghyun croons. “ _Feels like I’m yours, seems like I’m yours, but I’m not_ …”

When the song is finished and Jonghyun is introducing himself on the mic, using what he calls his DJ voice and what Taemin and Kibum call his pedo-whisper, Jinki turns to Kibum again. 

“This is cool,” he says, “I’ll totally be able to say I liked him before he was famous.”

Kibum rolls his eyes. “Optimistic, aren’t we?”

“I’m just saying,” Jinki says, “it could happen.” He looks down, smiles softly. “Thanks for bringing me out here today.”

A flush creeps up Kibum’s neck. “Yeah, no problem,” he says a little gruffly. “I’m glad you came.”

 

 

Minho is, as usual, skeptical.

“But what it boils down to is, it was a date,” he says, setting down the mug he’s been drying and throwing the rag over his shoulder. “I mean, even if he didn’t want to use the D-word, it was a fucking date.”

“I – well, no,” Jinki says, distraught. “That’s not how it works, though? Like, even if it was a date to me, he didn’t think of it that way, so…”

“If he didn’t think of it that way, he’s just fucking _wrong_ ,” Minho says exasperatedly, “because from what you have just described, it was definitely a date.”

“It felt like one,” Jinki admits. He runs a hand through his hair. “It was… that was the first time we’ve hung out without having sex.”

“Seriously?” Minho raises an eyebrow. “You two are, like, _always_ fucking then, because you blow me off to hang out with him pretty much every other day. I’m kind of impressed, actually.”

“We’re not always fucking,” Jinki says. His ears are burning. “Sometimes he does homework at my apartment and stuff…”

“After you’re done fucking?”

“Well,” Jinki frowns, “yeah, but like, we spend time together _not_ having sex.” He sighs. “And you’re right, Minho. It was a date. Like, what else could it have been? It was totally a date, right?”

“Right,” Minho says with a nod. “Because, newsflash, you two are dating.”

“We’re friends with benefits,” Jinki says tiredly. “We’re not dating, we’re not romantic. We don’t ever, like, kiss, you know? Like, we make out, but we don’t kiss. Although…”

“What?”

“I don’t know.” Jinki pauses, lost in thought. “This is kind of stupid, but there was this weird moment where I thought we were going to kiss yesterday. Like, right when we were leaving the cafe, and we were saying goodbye, he kind of, y’know, leaned in, and I thought… shit, I’m an idiot.” He shakes his head. “I keep overthinking everything.”

“Yeah, well I don’t blame you,” Minho says. He picks up another mug, runs his rag around it once. “This whole thing you two have is bizarre. You’re living in some kind of no-man’s-land, letting it be all ambiguous and shit, anyone’d be confused. What you need to do is draw a line and tell him to pick a side. Either you’re dating, or you’re not. This in-between stuff is not healthy, not for you at least.”

“But what if he picked the not-dating side?” Jinki says in a small voice. “I don’t want to stop seeing him.”

Minho rolls his eyes. “If that was his choice, he’s not worth your time and emotions in the first place.”

The thing is, Minho is probably right. Jinki knows that this isn’t healthy, isn’t sustainable; he’s known that, deep down, from the beginning. But, also from the beginning, he’s just had this _feeling_ about Kibum. They’d connected instantly. And maybe it was fate, or chance, or Minho that brought them together after that first inebriated romp, but if there’s anything Jinki believes in more than love at first sight, it’s love that blooms slowly. It’s love in the little things, love you have to earn, love that feels like home.

And the thing is, it’s probably premature to call this thing love. Jinki knows that. It’s only been a couple of months, after all. But if it’s too soon to call it love, it’s also far too late to back out without getting hurt. They’re playing a risky game, dancing on the edge of a precipice. Jinki knows he has to take that plunge sometime, but he’s just not ready, too scared that he’ll be falling alone. 

So, no, it isn’t healthy, and yes, it has to end. Maybe this is all just a colossal mistake, like Minho’s been insisting from the start, and maybe Jinki’s destined for heartbreak. 

But in the meantime, at least he has Kibum in his bed, and that’s enough for now. 

(Isn’t it?)

 

 

The first tip-off that something strange is afoot is Jonghyun’s reaction when Kibum gets into grad school. Or rather, his non-reaction. They’re supposed to be Best Friends, capitalization included, which means that Jonghyun is legally or at the very least morally obligated to be ecstatic when Kibum announces that he’s been accepted into his dream school for his dream program and it finally feels like the past few years in this absolute _hellhole_ of a major were worth it. 

But instead of gleefully rejoicing, immediately planning a celebratory dinner, or breaking down in tears – any of which would have been acceptable – Jonghyun just gives a lackluster, “Oh? That’s great, Kibum.” and goes back to the composition he’d been working on. 

“Thanks,” Kibum says, narrowing his eyes. Jonghyun has already tuned him out, is frowning over a half-scribbled-out sheet of notebook paper. 

In the couple of weeks following his performance at the cafe, Jonghyun has been really throwing himself into his music, cooping himself up in the apartment and feverishly composing, writing lyrics, strumming his guitar late into the night until Kibum yells at him to keep it down for the love of God because _some_ people are trying to sleep around here. It’s a rare kind of single-minded drive, because Jongyhun is normally the take-inspiration-as-it-comes type. 

“Hey, I’m thinking about shaving my head, thoughts?” Kibum says, watching Jonghyun. 

“Sounds good,” is the murmured reply. “Sounds great.”

“And I’m gonna covered myself in whipped cream and streak in the subway.”

“Awesome, good luck.”

“Oh, and did you hear about the dinosaurs terrorizing downtown Seoul?” 

“Yeah, that’s cool.”

“Also, Taemin’s coming over, he’ll be here in five.”

Jonghyun’s head whips up suddenly. “Taemin? He’s coming here? Now?”

“You _lovesick_ son of a _bitch_ ,” Kibum hisses, storming across the room, “ _give me that_.”

He snatches up the lyrics that Jonghyun’s working on, and reads aloud. 

“‘The way you move your body is like a work of art, I wanna taste your –’ ew, _no_.” Kibum drops the paper and wipes his hands to rid them of the filth, “Have some _decency_ , jesus.”

“Can you for once not kick me while I’m down,” Jonghyun says a bit pathetically. 

“Can you stop being down and actually listen to me while I’m talking to you?” Kibum shoots back. “I got into grad school. I thought you would be happy for me.”

“I am, Kibum, I am,” Jonghyun says. “I’m happy for you but I’m also…”

“Disgustingly pining after Taemin?” Kibum sniffs. “Yeah. I got that.”

“Well it’s hard,” Jonghyun says. He picks the piece of paper back up from the ground, sets it on his desk. “Things have been really weird between me and him, and then you’re always busy so I don’t have anyone to talk about it with.” 

Kibum winces a little. That one is probably on him. He _has_ been busy with schoolwork, the last final frenetic push before graduation, but he’s also been less than available for long chats with Jonghyun, in the hopes of avoiding being lectured about his relationship with Jinki. It didn’t really occur to him that Jonghyun might want to talk about his own relationship woes. 

Okay, so maybe _Kibum_ is the bad friend here. Oops. 

“I’m sorry,” he sighs, sinking down to sit on Jonghyun’s bed. “I didn’t realize this thing with you and Taemin was so… serious? I don’t know, what is it? He hasn’t been over much lately, now that I think about it.”

“Yeah, about that,” Jonghyun says, fidgeting. He swivels his chair to angle slightly away from Kibum. “We’ve kind of been… hooking up.”

Kibum swallows down his instant, visceral reaction of utter disgust and horror, and manages to react only with a faint twitch and a nod. He wants to gag. He really does. But he keeps it together, because Jonghyun has more to say.

“The thing is,” Jonghyun says, running a hand through his hair, “it’s so dumb, but the thing is, I thought, after the first time, like. I thought we were on the same page, but now it’s pretty clear that we’re not. I wanna like, _be_ with him, y’know?”

The urge to gag rises again. Almost worse than knowing that his two best friends have had carnal relations, now Kibum knows that the weird crush Jonghyun had on Taemin has mutated into an altogether more insidious case of _actual feelings_. Yikes. 

“And he apparently doesn’t feel the same,” Jonghyun concludes, “and now we might be fighting. I don’t know. He’s being really difficult.”

“Taemin being difficult, what a shocking turn of events,” Kibum says dryly. That at least pulls a chuckle out of Jonghyun. “Alright, listen. You want to be in a relationship with him. What is is that _he_ wants?”

“I really don’t know,” Jonghyun says, looking pained. “Like… friends with benefits? Maybe?”

It’s honestly upsetting how similar their lives are, Kibum thinks in the back of his mind. Is this the true meaning of being best friends?

“But it’s like I _always_ say,” Jonghyun continues pointedly, “that never works. Someone always catches feelings. Case in fucking point, _me_.”

Kibum chooses to ignore the obvious barb aimed at his own FWB situation. This isn’t about him, and for once he prefers it that way. “Then there you go.”

“What?”

“If it’s not working – and it’s not – you have to end it,” Kibum says. “You can’t change your own feelings and I doubt you can change his. Stop sleeping with him.”

“But you don’t understand,” Jonghyun says, “he’s so – ”

Kibum covers his ears. “No, no. I don’t want to hear about how he is in bed. Not now, not ever. And don’t make excuses to keep being miserable. If he doesn’t want to be with you, and you’ve one hundred percent confirmed that, then that’s that. You have to stop sleeping with him. It needs to mean the same thing to both of you.”

“I really don’t want to,” Jonghyun says in a tiny voice. “I really like sleeping with him.”

Kibum rolls his eyes. “You’re beyond help.”

Jonghyun shrugs but doesn’t deny it.

“Fine, whatever,” Kibum says, getting to his feet. “Be tormented if that’s what you want. Just don’t say I didn’t try.”

Jonghyun can be hard to help sometimes. Kibum knows he can be, too, and _god_ is this seriously what happens you’re best friends with someone for too long? It’s like when pets start looking like their owners. 

But the point is that Kibum made an effort, and even if Jonghyun is still going to mope around and be useless, Kibum feels good about having done his part. He can go back to focusing on his own (far more important) life. 

Back in his room, he starts planning an Instagram post to announce his acceptance into grad school. That’s how the general populace will be informed of this momentous news. Of course his inner circle deserves to know before the masses, and so to a select few close friends he shoots off a quick text, emoji-laden and heartfelt. Taemin is included, naturally. Jonghyun’s drama is _not_ going to affect Kibum’s friendship with Taemin; he decided that a while ago. 

But then he gets stuck on whether or not to text Jinki. 

Obviously, Jinki is not in the inner circle. He’s just a convenient dick for Kibum to hop on when he feels like it, that’s all. But at the same time, he’s someone Kibum has talked to more than once about grad school, partially because Jinki mentioned going back to school next year and partially because back when he was still working on his applications, sometimes Kibum would hole up in Jinki’s apartment (after sex) to escape the chaos of his own place and actually get shit done. It wasn’t like he’d needed the company, but it had been nice, Jinki humming absently beside him on the couch or over in the kitchen going through his pantry for some kind of snack for them to eat. 

“You’ll definitely get in,” Jinki had said whenever Kibum got to moaning and groaning about how much everything sucked and he wanted to die. “You’re super smart.”

That tended to make Kibum snort, because he’d been around Jinki long enough to know which one of them was _actually_ really smart, but the sentiment was still nice. 

But did it actually qualify Jinki to receive a text about it? They don’t text, really, other than coordinating when they’re going to meet up. And there’s been the occasional sexting session. Big deal life stuff, though? Not so much. 

But there’s still a part of Kibum, a surprisingly big part, that just wants to let Jinki know. And wants to get a text in return saying, ‘Congratulations!’ Maybe, in fact, if he handled it right, he could play it off as a prelude to sex: ‘I think I deserve a reward…’

Another part of Kibum thinks he’ll be a massive hypocrite if he does this, but he quashes that part, opens his chat with Jinki and starts typing. 

He’s halfway through painstakingly crafting this text, though, when his phone dings and displays a new message from Jinki. 

_Kibum!! I heard you got into grad school? That’s awesome! I told you you’d get in! ^^_

Kibum stares at the screen for a moment. Two things stand out here: one, how the fuck could Jinki possibly have heard already? He hasn’t posted his IG announcement, and as far as he knows they don’t share any mutual friends who might have told him. So… is he just psychic? 

And two: why does this make Kibum so damn happy? It really isn’t a big deal. It’s just a text message. It’s just a few simple sentences. It’s just….

He can’t stop smiling. 

 

 

Jinki receives the following text from Minho on a sunny afternoon:

_yo, i heard kibum’s going to yonsei for grad school. isn’t that where you were gonna apply for next year?_

Which is… okay, wow. Jinki is first of all really happy for Kibum – he’d been so stressed about his applications, despite Jinki’s best efforts to cheer him on – but second of all, very confused. How in the world could Minho have gotten ahold of this information?

 _Where did you hear that from??_ he types. 

Within a minute he gets a response:

_i have my sources_

Jinki frowns. 

_Did you get back together with Taemin?_

The response comes even quicker this time, a few messages in rapid succession. 

_definitely not_

_he has a boyfriend now or something_

_we still hang out sometimes though_

_anyway you should be more grateful that i have the inside scoop on the object of your pitifully one sided affections_

Okay, ouch. There’s no good way to respond to that, so Jinki opens up his chat with Kibum. The last thing he sent was ten days ago, a _get home safe_ that Kibum had read but never responded to. Which, Jinki tried hard not to think too much about. 

He types a congratulatory message, chews on his lip for a few seconds debating if he should send it or not, and then thinks: this is within the realm of casual sex friends, right? He hits send. 

Immediately the read receipt shows that Kibum’s seen it, and that makes him way more excited than it should. He really shouldn’t keep staring at his screen and waiting for a reply. Minho would tell him that it’s unhealthy. 

He’s about to close the app and put away his phone when a response does come. 

_Thanks ^^ I’m thinking I deserve a reward for all my hard work…_

Jinki grins so wide it almost hurts. He knows better than to be this elated over a text message, but at this point he’s just too far gone to care. 

_What kind of reward were you thinking?_

 

 

“Holy shit,” Kibum pants, rolling over and letting one hand drag carelessly over Jinki’s chest, “we should do it like that more often.”

“Yeah,” Jinki says. His chest heaves under Kibum’s fingertips and he smiles. “Yeah, that was. Wow.”

They’d dropped the ‘reward’ charade pretty quickly, but fuck if the sex hadn’t been mind-blowing anyway. Maybe it was because Kibum was charged up on his acceptance to grad school, or maybe it was because they simply hadn’t seen each other in over a week. That hadn’t been by design – their schedules just haven’t been lining up lately, what with Kibum’s last push of essays and term papers – but the lack of contact almost makes this meeting sweeter. Kibum hadn’t realized how long it had been until he showed up here and saw Jinki in person, felt a wave of desire wash over him. He’s been so busy, trapped in a vortex of schoolwork and triple-shot lattes, that he almost forgot to miss the feeling of another person’s skin against his own. 

So that’s why he’s being so touchy right now, obviously. There’s no real explanation otherwise, for why he’s lying on his side and tracing his hand languidly down Jinki’s side, for why he doesn’t shy away when Jinki grins at him and shifts closer and presses a gentle kiss to Kibum’s shoulder, his collarbone, his flushed cheek. Kibum is not normally the linger-in-a-post-coital-haze-of-delight type, at least not with Jinki, because shit like this? Cuddling? Is less than fuck but more than buddy, thereby entirely defeating the purpose of this whole arrangement. It’s just that right at this particular moment, Kibum is starved for touch, on top of being sleep-deprived and hungry, so he doesn’t really have it in him to resist Jinki’s insidiously cuddly advances. 

Well. He does turn away when Jinki tries to really kiss him, but that’s less to do with his desire to kiss Jinki and more to do with the recent contents of his mouth. Jinki seems to get it, doesn’t look disappointed at the rejection. In fact he looks pretty pleased with himself, like he’s gotten away with something he wasn’t expecting to. 

“Can I use your shower?” Kibum says, half because he’s sticky in uncomfortable places and half to get away from Jinki’s dangerously adoring gaze. 

“Sure,” Jinki replies easily. “Hey, you hungry? I was thinking about ordering something.”

“Uh,” Kibum says. His stomach chooses that moment to rumble loudly. “Yeah, that sounds good.”

“Pizza okay?”

“Pizza would be great.” Kibum slides out of bed, begins to pick his way through the unruly trail of clothes they’d left on the floor. When he looks back, he catches Jinki’s eyes following his ass, and he smirks. “Like what you see?”

Jinki abruptly goes red. “I wasn’t – ”

“Yes, you were.”

“Well, I,” Jinki says, flustered. Then he laughs. “Fine. I do like what I see. In my defense, you have a very nice butt.”

Kibum smiles, feels his own face go a little pink. “I know.”

When he gets out of the shower, he doesn’t immediately go for his own clothes. They’re wrinkled as hell, for one thing, but for another, they’re not really pizza-grease-friendly. So he finds an oversized cotton t-shirt of Jinki’s, and a pair of cartoon print pajama shorts, and makes his way into the living room, where Jinki’s sitting on the couch and flipping idly through the channels on the TV. He gets about seven channels, and three of them are news.

“What do you think,” Jinki says, “Home shopping network, drama rerun, cooking show, or weather?”

“What drama is it?”

“Uh,” Jinki says, scratching his head. “I’m not sure? There’s a girl lying in a hospital bed right now, if that helps?”

“It absolutely does not,” Kibum says. “Oh well. Cooking show, I guess.”

He slips onto the couch next to Jinki. Close enough that they could touch, but they don’t. Kibum forces himself not to think about the warmth he can feel emanating from Jinki’s thigh, or the nearness of his lovely thick arms. Instead he focuses on the television, where a celebrity chef is sprinkling seasoning onto a sizzling stir-fry. 

“I always tell myself I’m gonna make these dishes, and I never do,” Jinki comments. He seems unperturbed by the proximity. “They make it look so easy on TV.”

“It’s not that hard,” Kibum says airily. “You pretty much just throw a bunch of shit in a pan, and bam. Dinner.”

Jinki laughs. “Ah, I guess I just never got in the habit of cooking for myself.”

“That’s no good,” Kibum says, elbowing Jinki admonishingly. “You shouldn’t live alone if you don’t know how to cook.”

“I’m not crazy about living alone,” Jinki says. 

“Because you’re so inept at cooking you can’t even manage a stir-fry?”

Jinki shakes his head. “Because I get lonely.”

Oh. Kibum swallows. That’s – 

“How can you be lonely while I’m here,” he snaps, and gathers his knees in front of him on the couch, curling his arms around them. The thought of Jinki sitting here, alone, despondent, eating a pathetic meal of instant noodles in silence, puts a lump in his throat. 

“I’m not, when you’re here,” Jinki says quietly. Kibum sneaks a glance at him out of the corner of his eye, and Jinki is smiling at the TV. “When you’re here, it feels more like home.”

Heat rises to Kibum’s face, and he suddenly doesn’t want to look at Jinki anymore, he can’t. Because, _fuck_ , of all the embarrassing things to come out of Jinki’s mouth, this just might take the cake. And worse than that, he’s _so_ right. Kibum is sitting on Jinki’s couch wearing Jinki’s clothes watching some mediocre television and waiting for a pizza to come. It’s almost sickeningly domestic, and suddenly what they’re doing now feels way more intimate than any of the kinky shit they’ve tried in the bedroom. Kibum gulps. 

“I,” he flounders. “I wouldn’t… want you to be lonely.”

His eyes remain glued to the TV – he could not give less of a fuck about the plating of this pork stir-fry right now, but it’s like he’s frozen in place, his limbs locked, his mouth dry – and next to him he can feel Jinki shifting a little on the couch. 

“Kibum, I – “

_Rrring_

The harsh sound of the doorbell makes them both jump, and the tension of the moment breaks. Kibum turns to look at Jinki finally, and his eyes are wide. 

“That must be the pizza,” Jinki says. His voice is oddly tight. 

“Right,” Kibum says. 

“I’ll go get the door, then.”

“Yeah.” Kibum pulls his knees in tighter as Jinki gets up from the couch. He can’t reign in his heartbeat; his blood is rushing a mile a minute, all keyed up with the anticipation of _what was he about to say_ –?

There’s the sound of the door opening, and then:

“Oh, whoa.” Jinki sounds uncomfortable. “You’re not the pizza guy.”

“Sorry, hyung,” a deep voice laughs. “No pizza here. I guess I should have called before dropping by.”

“No, it’s okay,” Jinki says. “What’s up?”

“Well first of all, I really need to pee,” the guy says. “Can I use your bathroom?”

“Oh! Yes. You can. Um, you definitely can, but – oh, you’re coming in, that’s fine, I just – “

Kibum thinks vaguely: _oh, shit_. He doesn’t really have time to hide anywhere, so he just kind of braces himself as a stranger rounds the corner and enters the living room. It’s a tall guy in workout clothes, with close-cropped black hair and big eyes that get bigger when he sees Kibum. 

“Oh,” says the stranger.

“Yeah, so actually this is – “ Jinki starts breathlessly, but the guy cuts him off.

“Kim Kibum, right?”

Kibum nods stiffly. “You must be Choi Minho.”

"You two are finally meeting each other,” Jinki says weakly. “Yay?”

“Yeah, cool,” Minho says. He looks at Kibum with an almost appraising eye, and Kibum is suddenly hyper-conscious of how he’s freshly showered in borrowed clothes and Jinki’s sporting insane sex hair and wearing only a sweatshirt and boxers. Everything about them screams ‘we just got done fucking’. “Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise,” Kibum says stiffly. 

It turns out Minho’s here to borrow a set of portable speakers. While he’s in the bathroom, Jinki sits back down next to Kibum on the couch. 

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I didn’t know he would be coming around… I’d have warned you, I promise.”

“That’s okay,” Kibum says. “It’s not your fault.”

“Yeah,” Jinki says, “just… Minho’s sort of nosy. I know you don’t really want people to, like. Know about this whole thing with us.”

It’s true enough that Kibum doesn’t want anyone sticking their noses into his business, but when Jinki puts it like that… it’s as though he thinks Kibum wants to keep their entire arrangement a secret. As though he’s ashamed of this. 

“No,” he says awkwardly, “it’s fine, honestly.”

But the entire mood is soured now, and even after Minho leaves, Kibum’s gut churns with a discomfort that he can’t shake. It’s more than just embarrassment at being seen like this, more than irritation at a conversation having been interrupted. It’s almost a lurching sensation, like his ears are popping. Like his mind is finally catching up with the rest of him and realizing exactly how much he’s into Jinki. 

Because the truth is: he’s not really _that_ embarrassed to be seen like this. Yes, he just had sex, and no, he doesn’t care who knows it. And he doesn’t care who knows that it was with Jinki – if anything he’s a little proud of that fact. Because, well, _look_ at him. 

And the fact that their conversation was interrupted? Kibum could kick himself, he’s such an idiot, but in reality, he knows where that conversation was going and knows where it would have ended and knows, deep down, that it would have been nothing but a confirmation of what he’s been too afraid to admit to himself for the past however many months: that this thing he has with Jinki isn’t just casual. That it’s more than sex. That if they were to just put words to it, it could become something real. 

And that prospect is thrilling and terrifying and far too momentous to bring up out of nowhere as they sit back down to watch this stupid cooking show, so Kibum carries on what he’s been doing this whole time: he pushes down his feelings and pretends they don’t exist. 

When Jinki says hesitantly, “So, about earlier…” Kibum is quick to cut off that thread. 

“Your friend is such a cockblock,” he says, “I _so_ thought that was the pizza. Now I’m really hungry.”

Jinki says nothing for a moment. Then, “Yeah, same. The pizza. I… I also want pizza.”

They don’t talk about anything serious for the rest of the afternoon, but Kibum doesn’t miss, later, when he’s leaving, the hopeful look in Jinki’s eye. He’s got his shoes on and he’s nearly out the door, and Jinki is standing before him in the hallway, closer than he needs to be, almost angled forward. Almost as though waiting for a goodbye kiss. 

And Jinki does look so, so kissable right now, but to kiss him would mean making a leap that Kibum is far too scared to make, and so he backs away, and says, “I’ll see you around,” before hurrying out and letting the door shut behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song Jonghyun sings in the cafe is 'Some' by Soyou because I couldn't resist haha. 
> 
> If you've read this far and have any type of reaction, I always love to get comments :) And stay tuned for part 3 at some point in the near future probably! lol


End file.
